


I Don’t Want You (Like A Best Friend)

by seekrest



Series: The Secret Sessions [6]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Michelle loved Peter when he got like this.She likes to think she knew everything about him, had watched him for over a year before they’d even starting dating - cataloguing the things he liked and disliked, keeping tabs on the things that he kept hidden from others, even some things that he tried to keep from himself. Things that now after three years of marriage she knew intimately.Michelle loved it all, every bit of Peter Parker and who he was for the world. He was her best friend, her lover, her husband.But it was when he was like this - eyes dark and focused on her, closing the distance between them, this was the Peter Parker no one else got to see.This was the Peter that was completely and utterly hers.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: The Secret Sessions [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537501
Comments: 21
Kudos: 134





	I Don’t Want You (Like A Best Friend)

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar, it’s cause it is! Wanted to rework this but rather than edit it months later like a rational person, I just deleted it and then instantly regretted it.
> 
> So. Here it is - new and improved.
> 
> :)
> 
> Song inspo: Dress, _reputation_ (2017)

Peter took a sip of his drink, face scrunching up as the liquid burned his throat. 

He hated the taste of vodka and it hardly did anything for him, but it was part of the atmosphere - watching drunk couples around him dance off-beat to the loud music pumping through the speakers.

The music was a little _too_ loud, aggravating his senses in a way he hadn’t anticipated but he tries to shake it off, scanning the crowd as he searched for her. 

_No. Don’t search. You’re aloof. You don’t care. You’re having a good time,_ Peter thinks to tell himself, forcing himself to be as unfocused and as relaxed as possible.

But he wasn’t. Peter was tense, the room around him doing nothing to calm the silent storm in his heart - the pining and anticipation that he’d felt since the minute he’d walked into this club. 

His hands shook as he knocked back the rest of his drink, feeling his heartbeat hammer in his chest. 

And then Peter sees her - like a beacon, shining out to him across the dance floor. 

He catches her eye immediately, watching as she sees him - a smirk on her face before she walks towards him with purpose.

Peter let his eyes land all over the dress she had on, a shimmering green thing that he’d never seen before. Strapless. A slit that made Peter’s breath catch for how much leg showed as she walked towards him. 

Peter swallowed down the anticipation in his chest, schooling his features to be as aloof as possible. If this was gonna work, if he was going to be able to give her what she wants - he had to commit to this - to try and pretend as if he hadn’t been waiting for her to walk in since the minute he’d gotten dressed, that he hadn’t been thinking of this moment all week. 

She finally walks up to him, only to pivot away - leaning against the bar, her arms just barely brushing him as she signaled the bartender. 

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest now, even as he still faced the dance floor - arms leaning back as he looked at her - seeing the way she flipped her hair around, looking at him over her bare shoulder. 

“Hey tiger.” Her voice was low, undeniably seductive - making Peter feel like the temperature in the club suddenly rose ten degrees, his pants feeling that much tighter as he turned around, mirroring her stance as he kept her gaze. 

“You come here often?” Peter asks, voice just as low as he stares, his eyes shifting down to her lips before looking back into her eyes - seeing the flash of a joke in them before they transform back into the steely, almost bored look she’d had before. 

“Not really my scene.” The bartender finally comes by, listening as she gave her order. 

Peter wanted to skip the pleasantries, a stirring in his stomach as she bit her lip almost convincing him to hoist her on the bar, lift her dress up and---

 _No_ . _Stick to the plan._ Peter shook his head, breaking their eye contact for a second as she tilts her head. 

“You doing alright?”

Peter laughs, trying to pull off a casual shrug even if the tension between them was almost electric. 

“Been one of those days. You know how it is.”

“I don’t actually.” Her drink order comes, watching as she swirls it around. “You wanna tell me about it?” She leans in, Peter’s breath hitching at how close she was. 

“I’m a good listener.” She whispered, Peter forgetting himself as he leaned in, bringing her lips to his as he pulls her in - feeling how shocked she was even as she melted into it, just for a second. 

His hand travels down her arm, bringing her forward only for her to break the kiss, Peter looking at her with a dazed expression as she rolls her eyes.

“Peter. We talked about this. You’ve got to finish the conversation before you kiss me.”

“MJ.” Peter groaned, leaning his forehead against hers, “I’m not good at this. Just… can we go home?”

He hears her laugh before she kisses him again, Peter brining her closer to him as she wraps an arm around his neck. Peter brushes his tongue across her bottom lip, willing for her to open her mouth - but the action causes Michelle to back up, Peter sighing. 

“That’s the _point_ , Pete. You’re supposed to _try_ and get me to come home with you.” 

Peter blinks, then laughs - seeing the way Michelle furrows her eyebrows. “I think _you_ were the one seducing me here.” 

Michelle just smirks as she leans closer -feeling her breath on his face, nose touching as their bodies almost hummed from the proximity, vibrating with the intensity of knowing exactly what was going to happen between them tonight. 

“You’re not wrong. Only bought this dress so you could take it off.” 

Peter groaned again, grabbing some cash from his pocket and slamming it on the bar. “That’s it. We’re going home.”

“Pete--”

Peter says nothing, grabbing Michelle by the hand as she follows after him - letting him lead her to the street, the humidity so thick he could it with a knife as Peter waved for a cab. 

“We lasted a little longer this time.” Michelle offers, Peter completely focused on finding a cab - thinking that if they didn’t get home soon that he’d just find an alleyway, knowing in a way that sent a shiver down his spine that she’d be into that. 

“We’re not doing this again. This is…” He looked back at her, seeing the wide-eyed smile on her face. “You’re irresistible, MJ. I don’t know how you expect me to pretend like I’ve never met you before when you walk in looking like _that_.” He lets his eyes study every inch of her, hearing how her heart starts to race even with the city sounds all around them.

A cab pulls up just then, bringing Peter’s attention back to the task at hand. He pulls her in closer, till their faces are inches from each other. 

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

Michelle loved Peter when he got like this. 

She likes to think she knew everything about him, had watched him for over a year before they’d even starting dating - cataloguing the things he liked and disliked, keeping tabs on the things that he kept hidden from others, even some things that he tried to keep from himself. Things that now after three years of marriage she knew intimately. 

That he was selfless, good and kind in a way that floored her - never meeting anyone that was quite like him. 

That he was always seeking out ways to better the world - through moonlighting as a crime fighter in spandex by night or through his innovative work on medical technology. 

That he had a weird family, one that included with an aunt he adored, a father figure who had saved the universe and more superheroes on speed dial that anyone should ever have. 

Michelle loved it all, every bit of Peter Parker and who he was for the world. He was her best friend, her lover, her husband. 

But it was when he was like _this_ \- eyes dark and focused on her, closing the distance between them as his tongue found new ways to map her mouth, his hands greedily searching every inch of her, not even caring about the taxi driver’s disapproving looks - this was the Peter Parker no one else got to see.

This was the Peter that was completely and utterly _hers_. 

Michelle’s hands were all over him, trying to unbutton his shirt, sinking a hand down his chest as he pulled her closer - knowing from his movements and from loving him so long that he likely had half of mind to bring her over his lap, reminding her of the times that they had sneaked around together in high school - like a cliche in the backseat of her dad’s car. 

But they were years away from those fumbling teenagers, Peter’s hands tangling in her hair as she kissed him harder - hearing the moan in his mouth as her hand traveled down his chest to his dick, palming it through his pants as his mouth began to move to her neck.

“We’re here.” The taxi driver sounds pissed, but all that does is make Michelle want to giggle - like she would if she was drunk, thinking back to the wasted whiskey she had ordered and Peter had paid for. 

That was something they’d have to figure out later, how they could play out this particular fantasy in a way that didn’t have Peter throwing down entirely too much money away for an already overpriced drink.

But any thoughts about that conversation leave her mind when Peter closes the door to the apartment behind him, pushing her against it, bracing her hands over head as he leans in - Michelle’s heart hammering in her ears as she looked back at him.

“Nice place.” She whispered, seeing the hunger in his eyes. 

“No more games, MJ.” His mouth meets hers and his grip on her hands loosen, choosing instead to wrap them around the small of her back as she moves with him, pushing them backwards. He’d grown a little taller since high school but Michelle still had an inch or so over on him with her heels, teetering forward until Peter lost his patience, picking her up.

“The dress--”

“Was made to be taken off remember?” Peter said, breath hot against her neck as Michelle kissed him, letting him lead her to their bedroom.

The humidity outside felt like it had carried into the apartment, though a part of Michelle wondered if that was in her head or an after-effect of the club.

Whatever it was, she found it harder to focus on anything than the press of Peter’s chest against hers, feeling him harden against her, the wetness between her legs growing as his hands started trailing downwards. 

“Stop teasing me.” Michelle whispered as one of Peter’s hands brushed over her chest, knowing he could feel her nipples harden through the soft satin of the dress. 

“Stop being such a tease.” Peter whispered back, biting her lip as his hands dove to the side of the dress - already having figured out the quickest way to get her out of it. He zipped it down so forcefully she was sure he’d broken it, but Michelle was beyond caring about that - Peter pulling his shirt over his head as the dress fell. 

“ _Fuck_.” Michelle smiled to herself, a small win in this little game - knowing she wasn’t playing fair by choosing to go without underwear tonight. But before she had a chance to say something, his mouth was back on hers - using one arm to lift her up and bring her down to the bed, hovering over her as Michelle parted her legs. 

“Take your pants off.” Michelle said, Peter moving off of her - almost comically trying to shift them down. 

Michelle leaned forward, working on her heels - seeing a flash of something in Peter’s eyes. “Keep them on.”

Michelle just looked at him, eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Peter seemed to debate with himself before shaking his head. “No, no, you’re right. I’ll just hurt himself.”

“We’re talking about _that_ later.” Michelle snickered, undoing the last buckle of one heel only for Peter - now fully undressed - to snap the buckle of the other heel without a second’s glance.

“Peter! Those shoes cost--”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Peter said, pushing her back on the bed as he went to hover over her again, Michelle feeling him twitch against her. 

Michelle snorted as he kissed her neck. “With _your_ paycheck? Otto doesn’t pay _that_ well, Pete.” She could hear his small laugh, his kisses leaving a trail from her neck down to the valley between her breasts, to her stomach. 

Michelle sighed, knowing his destination but feeling impatient - remembering the beginning of the night. 

Strangers meeting in a bar wouldn’t have the kind of sex Peter was trying for, the soft and gentle kind - the kind of sex that came from years of knowing each other, of being so comfortable with someone that you don’t have to even say what you want - they already knew. 

It was the kind of sex he was good at - the kind Michelle enjoyed immensely - but even if the fantasy hadn’t played out like they had originally planned, she didn’t want to completely eliminate the purpose of the night. 

They didn’t _need_ to spice things up, but Michelle liked the chase - liked feeling as if this thing between them was new and exciting, even if there was something irresistible about the way Peter’s mouth met the space between her legs - less like a stranger and more like someone who knew exactly what he was doing, Michelle inhaling sharply as his tongue found her clit, swirling over it in the pattern he knew she liked. 

It was moments like this, when he was between her legs - her eyes open and staring up at the ceiling as she tried not to rock against his face, feeling his tongue slide into her, that Michelle let herself think of the years they had between them, the love that felt so real and rock-solid that it made her head spin. 

It was a love that had late night arguments over putting himself in danger - drunk confessions in the bathroom, spilling wine in the bathtub as he leaned in to kiss her. A love that endured stuffy galas where he was Peter Parker, brilliant biotech engineer that was mentored by Tony Stark and she was Michelle Jones-Parker, _Times_ reporter with ambitions to win a Pulitzer. 

It was a love that dealt with being surrounded by people who thought they knew them, of expectations and assumptions - knowing Peter being Spider-Man added another layer of complication to their already complicated life. 

But here, between the two of them - sheets rolling together and the sticky heat of New York drifting in as Michelle’s back arched - this was the Peter and Michelle that she wanted to always remember.

The Peter who didn’t hold the burden of the world on his shoulders. The Michelle who wasn’t so obsessive about the truth even if it hurt.

This - Michelle sharply inhaling as she twisted her fingers in his hair - Peter using it as encouragement to keep going - was the Peter and Michelle that she loved being the most. 

But Peter can finish what he’d already started, Michelle puts her hand through his hair, pulling his head back - seeing the slickness of his chin.

“What?”

Michelle panted, reconsidering her commitment to the bit. The look in his eyes, the want and the yearning- it was enough to nearly undo her, almost shoving his head back down to finish her off. 

But as much as Michelle loved the two of them in this room - the two of them that found new ways to carve out each other names on their bodies - he’d ruined her dress. Probably ruined some of her most expensive heels. 

They were going to do this _her_ way. 

“We’re strangers. You wouldn’t--you wouldn’t get me off like this as a stranger.”

Peter smirks. “Says _who_?” But he relents, leaning up as Michelle sighs - loosening her grip in his hair as he wipes his chin, sucking the finger clean as he stares at her. 

“You’re fucking killing me.” 

“ _You’re_ the one who said you wanted to spice things up.” Peter shrugged, seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need any help.” 

Michelle says nothing, sitting up then turning over - Peter’s hands immediately going to her hips as she braces herself on her elbows, settling her knees on the mattress. 

“You’ll need help if you don’t--” Michelle’s cut off, feeling him barely tease her entrance before he pushed himself in - Michelle already slick from the work his tongue built, leaning forward as her head rested down on the bed. 

“What was that?” Peter taunted, rocking into her as Michelle’s back arched, panting. 

“Shut up.” She could hear Peter’s laughter but she could also feel it, his hips rolling against her as he started to move in a steady rhythm. 

She hated how well he knew her, hated how good he was at this - any semblance of control she thought she had falling away as his hips snapped against her. 

“Harder.” Michelle panted, thrusting her hips back as one of his hands pressed down the small of her back, his hand moving upward as he listened to her request. 

“A stranger wouldn’t,” Peter grunted, “tell me what to do.”

“Says _who_?” Michelle huffed, closing her eyes as she clenched around him, the hand on his back going to her hair, pulling back slightly as he started to rock into her harder. 

It was shallow, quick - the electricity from the club feeling like it was crackling in the air now between them.

Michelle let herself get lost to the moment, grounding herself as she pushed herself deeper - Peter letting go of her hair as he moved quicker, bracing his hands on her hips as Michelle moved one hand to her clit. 

She should’ve expected that the bit wouldn’t last. It was always like this between the two of them, always devolving back into the relationship that they’d spent years building, back to the knowledge of what things to do to help each other climax quicker.

Michelle knew it wasn't the worst thing in the world - she’d heard enough stories from her coworkers to support that. And Peter was right, they didn’t really _need_ the help.

But Michelle liked seeing every part of Peter, liked finding new shades of the man she’d married - wondering if she’d ever uncover all the layers of who he was, knowing she’d spend a lifetime wanting to.

She can feel his hips start to jerk faster, any rhythm that he had previously found being completely lost as Michelle rocked against him even harder. She was close and so was he, knowing from his soft grunts that he was trying to hold himself back, trying to make it last longer.

But this was Michelle’s game. She hadn’t played fair all night and she didn’t intend on starting now. She clenched around him again, hearing his groan - his hands gripping her hips so tightly that she was sure he would leave a bruise.

“Fuck, MJ. I’m--”

“Peter.” Her voice is low, gasping - a sound she knows that will cause any of his resolve to crumble.

Michelle feels him groan right before he comes - rubbing her clit harder as his hips kept pulsing behind her until Michelle was right there with him, moving her hand forward to prevent herself from falling forward.

It was blinding, an overwhelming rush of pure ecstasy - shivering down her spine as her breath shuddered - borne out of the anticipation she’d had all night - all _week_ \- in getting to this moment. Michelle kept rocking her hips, trying to extend it until he stilled behind her - Michelle leaning down to rest back on her forearms. 

She winces when he pulls out, feeling her chest heave as she tried to catch her breath. Michelle leaned back slightly, feeling him move off the bed, grabbing wipes from their bedside table as he helped clean her up. 

“A stranger wouldn’t do that either.” Michelle said, smiling as she looked at him over her shoulder.

“It’s over, MJ. We sucked at this fantasy thing.” Peter shook his head, helping her sit up as she stretched, kissing him before walking towards the bathroom. 

“I don’t know, Tiger,” Michelle yelled out as she sat down on the toilet, “Cleaning up each other? Peeing after sex? This is the _height_ of sexual fantasies.” 

She could hear Peter snicker from the bathroom, knowing he was doing a quick change of the sheets before she returned. By the time Michelle had washed her hands, he was there - waiting for her, one arm propping his head up. 

“But you’re right.” Michelle said, diving in under the covers as Peter laughs, his eyebrows raising.

“I’m _right_? I want that on the record.” Michelle playfully pushes against his chest, Peter bringing the arm he was using to prop himself up down as she snuggled closer, his other arm moving to wrap around her. 

“Don’t get excited. I’m saying you’re right about the stranger sex thing. Not anything else.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, barely missing it as she kissed him. It wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been before, languid and relaxed - still resting in the afterglow. 

“I’ll take it,” Peter whispered, “I’m fine with being wrong if I get to be right here with you.”

Michelle paused, narrowing her eyes as she saw a stupid smirk on his face.

“Is that… is that a _line_?”

Peter laughed, kissing her again as she scoffed. “What? You’re not the only one who’s thought of some things we could try.”

“Cheesy pickup lines? Really?” Michelle teased, turning over to allow him to hold her from behind, feeling his breath against her neck before he kissed her shoulder. 

“It’s only a line if I don’t mean it.” He brushed his lips against her shoulder again, bringing her even closer when his leg slid between hers, Michelle sighing as their fingers intertwined.

“Well only if you mean it.” Michelle murmured, feeling the familiar exhaustion crawl over her as Peter settled behind her. 

He doesn’t answer, Michelle knowing that he fell asleep quicker than she did after sex - secretly loving the fact that she had such an effect on him that he passed out so soon. 

For as much as Michelle had liked the idea of creating some fantasy between the two of them, pretending they were strangers meeting for their first time - Michelle loved _this_ too. 

The after, holding each other close - knowing they’d wake up in the morning a tangle of limbs and sheets, and terrible morning breath - the smell of him everywhere, an indentation in the shape of them when they’d leave their bed. 

Michelle loved every bit of Peter Parker. Her best friend, her lover, her husband. 

Feeling his breathing start to even out, her own eyes feeling heavier by the second, Michelle let herself let go - lost to his embrace and the feeling of being at home with him. 

As the exhaustion started to overtake her, hearing Peter sigh in contentment, Michelle smiled - only to wince when she remembered that the dress she’d worn tonight - the dress that Peter had half ripped off of her - wasn’t hers, but from Rent the Runway. One that she’d have to return.

She sighs, burrowing her head into their pillow. Reality always found a way to wiggle its way between them, no matter how much Michelle wished the world could just be the two of them.

But then she hears Peter starts to snore - a smile still on her face as the truth washed over her.

Fantasy may have been fun for the night.

But the love she has for Peter was better than what any stranger could give her.

* * *

_Say my name and everything just stops._

_I don’t want you like a best friend._

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off._


End file.
